The Celestial Sea

by Marina de Nadous

  The path slips into the cleared wetland in places. We have to watch our footing. Intriguing holes disappear into the undergrowth; providing further excitement for my young charge. The sun, as ever in this blessed land, shines upon us as we saunter through the green wonderland. Finding a dry bank we sit while Sienna reads the story of St. Francis; an important chapter in the continuing Main Lesson. The shade from a towering pine keeps us cool and I gaze up at the sacred ‘Fairy Tree’. From kindergarten days this tree maintains its magic for the children. I have even heard the twelve-year-old boys speak of it with reverence.

  We dare to walk through the Bamboo Forest after the story. The slender trunks grow close together but a path has been cleared through the middle. Stepping inside we enter another world. It is dark; soft underfoot and silent. “This forest marks an important ‘right of passage’ in the lives of the younger school children,” Adrian told me recently. “Meeting the unfamiliar darkness calls for bravery.”

  With my morning’s duty at an end, Cordelia and I make our way to Class 4; our Go-Getter’s class. The ten-year-olds will portray ‘The Spider in the Cave’ scene during the coming Advent Festival. By weaving a web over the cave’s entrance the spider protects Mary and Joseph as they sleep, saving the couple from the cruel wind. Adrian and I have completed the song accompanying each scene and today we need to practice.

  Richenda has been chosen as the spider while the rest of the children form the wild wind that rushes in two lines across the middle of the scene, criss-crossing at speed in floaty garments. This is quite a feat but they are getting there. With concentration they work out the best ways to move, and most importantly, the best leaders for the two lines. We leave them to continue the morning session, knowing Martha will lead them through the routine every day over the next two weeks.

  Midday, Mouse: Just leaving school now. Shall I go straight to the Everglades?

  Adrian: Yes, meet you there. Just making Gino a cup of tea. {A school parent and builder; working on the kindy deck.}

  Mouse: I don’t have any food with me today——I’m not hungry, but bring something if you are, My Love——X

  We have a sad, sad meeting today. There is no clear path ahead. We have reached a hopeless dead end. My Lord Swallow is more realistic than I, despite his ever-present disconcertion in our coming together. “We face the quandary of thwarted love, My Friend,” he states simply. We stay in the back of my spacious van; too unhappy to walk under the avocado trees. He does not hold me. Instead, he takes me through a process from his course, finding the true reason for my sadness. His patient eyes find mine and he says quietly; “I am going to miss you.” Tears come to me then. I cannot stop their steady flow. “I will lose my soul’s resting place——return to the long haul; the endless work with no respite on this level,” I reply. “We have sailed across Heavenly Oceans and it is devastating to be turned out of our Boat.” Our time comes to an end, as always. No tears escape from Adrian, although I know he is hurting underneath his steady composure. I need him to cry with me.

  “Tomorrow at our weekly meeting I have to tell The Management Team my course of action——our decision,” he informs me. There is a Staff Play practice at three o’clock. I cannot face it this afternoon. I let Adrian go alone.

  P.m. Adrian: Hello, My Dear. Back in the Everglades I am——and thinking of you. Hope you’re okay? I am tired but well——not really feeling much. I have an appointment with the osteopath tomorrow at 2p.m.

  I don’t reply. My heart is too raw——struck apart. I cannot respond with lightness and positivity. I also ignore a message from The Laird. “I just didn’t feel like texting.” I tell him when he comes home. I am close to tears all afternoon. I feel as if I have been punched all over. I sit in the rocking chair when I am alone and cry for our precious Boat; deserted and threatened by the jagged rocks of these cruel shores.

  Mouse: Goodnight, My Friend. Give The Small One a special kiss from me. When I put him to bed earlier he was crying——so sad because he lost the red hat we gave him before The Fair. I told him we would look for it tonight. Little Arthur, dry your eyes. Sleep held and loved——

  I hear later that Adrian never received this message.

  Thursday 30th November 2006

  A.m Mouse: She is weeping on the deck. Their pure, white sail has been sliced in two——a massive tear from top to bottom. They have spent many months caring for, and maintaining this unique vessel and now she is halted abruptly——harshly——in the face of the impending storm of others’ perception. Unwelcome waves, dark and heavy, lurch The Boat from side to side. Thick clouds form, obscuring their companion sun. She has searched The Boat for a repair kit but the one on board is not sufficient. There is a way to mend the sail, but he who has the materials, {a part owner of their vessel}, cannot lay his hands on them.

  And where is he? ——Lord Swallow——her beautiful helmsman. A fresh wave of tears fills her longing eyes. Sadder to her even than the torn sail is the fact that he is not crying with her——that he is not feeling and connecting with her——he hasn’t been able to for a while now. She thinks she knows why——too many barriers——too many life-shocks. She holds out her hand to him but he is not there. She suspects he has jumped; plunged into the cruel sea and swum for the shore, hoping that the cold water will knock any possible sadness out of him. She wishes he could have held her in deep connection and tears before he left. He is no coward——but in the face of his own emotion? She wonders. Perhaps their love is not as deep for him as it is for her——

  Adrian: Well spoken, My Friend. Thank-you for opening to me once more. I feared I had lost your truth and a distant person you would become. After an evening of distraction I looked at my soul and not pleasant was the sight. Yes, clouds and storms, tumultuous and wild, confusing and filled with violence and cursing. Accusations of cruelty and weakness——a bad person——fearful thoughts and retributions from angry family and unsatisfied colleagues. Yes, in the tide——helpless and battered——swamped. The dim morning sun finds me washed up safely somewhere——but still marching to the drumbeat of school——the demands many——the faces of children and colleagues pressing and close——needing. Then your sweet voice——out on the battered Boat. What to do? In a second I am beside you again——but awkward——embarrassed. What do you think of me? And the drums——oh——the drums——how they drive!

  Uncertain, I pray——Is this an answer? The Boat can be anchored for a while——replenished for her next voyage with little visits to check her from time to time. An agreement to place her in dry-dock soon. Consciousness still around her——gratitude for her steady course, her sea-worthiness and for all that she gave us on the incredible journey. Maybe a quiet time for now; prepare ourselves and attend to the drums and demands of Advent, Nativity Play, Family, Friends, Reports and House-hunting. Telling them our decision to dry-dock our precious Boat——to join the dance on land——our sea voyages taken individually——or in the air——but The Boat anchored for quiet time before one last journey when life ashore allows it. A berth ritual perhaps? A check——a fond farewell——for a time——lovemaking? One last trip where we give thanks, plot the waters we traveled, laugh over the adventure, write a log and embrace once more before dry-docking. What say you, Torn Captain?

  Mouse: Yes, My Lord Swallow. Yes, My fellow Captain——this is a way——X

  The dog needs walking. The sandwich bread is in the freezer. I clear the worktop and empty the dishwasher. The family slumbers on. Time to wake them. Drip, drip——the tap washer has gone——and life continues. Once the school run is done I send Adrian another message. I need him. There is much to say.

  Mouse: My Darling——your busy day. I hope the drums are less battering to your beautiful Spirit. No Andre in class for me, your full timetable and seeing the osteopath as well. We are not meant to meet until your teachers’ meeting is over. I will light a candle in my heart and soul and pray that it goes well——that you can find the r
ight words to express the dry-docking of our precious Boat——that your integrity and truth can find a way for us. I have enormous faith in you, despite your mind-talk accusations. I need you to promise that you will never feel awkward or embarrassed in front of me. You have demanded this of me, so now I ask the same of you. However low you are feeling, the man I see before me is My Prince——tall and straight——his dignity and nobility always present. You have taken me to the very core of my vulnerability, My Lover, and now it is your turn. When next we come together, I shall ask the same of you——

  The day goes by slowly. I am hardly present. A time of silence——the convicted pair waiting sentence, save they have to sentence themselves; the hand of cruel devastation resting in Lord Swallow’s promise to his colleagues. His Lady knows it will be harsh. She is a part of him now and he is harsh on himself.

  She waits—————————

  * * * * * * *

  P.m. Mouse: Hi Friend——can you let me know how you are? How the meeting went? As a concerned Friend, of course——X

  Adrian: Hi, My Dear. I am well. Steady at the helm. Left my phone behind when I went to the course tonight. It was useful. Did an ‘esteem generator’ for this choice of gently, respectfully and gracefully closing our relationship. Nice——for me a move into a new balance of inner desires and professional life. I felt the cool breeze of selflessness——new opening of my inside life. But here I am——buoyed up with colleagues’ approval and care, and that of my sharing partner on the course. And how are you, Strong Friend? I very much want to meet with you for a long, private time——completion, honouring, closing, reflection. I have made this agreement with my colleagues without time, but soon——and I will honour this commitment. But not coldly——with much love and gratitude——and curiosity about the lesson for us both. Why have we been led so blessedly to this point, and then hit with this very clear message to stop?

  The teachers gave no quarter——pressing home the importance of a clean break, and immediately. But I know we have another task to complete, but quickly. So, I ask you to join me Friday, Saturday or Sunday night for a ritual; a burial, a planting maybe—together one more time for laughter and reflection; what it has been.

  Tired Man not saying clearly what he is feeling. Goodnight. Hope you are holding up——I think so. Sleep well——deep——Adrian.

  I am overwhelmed by tears——the hopeless, grey horizon stretches into a bleak future. I re-read our messages time and again; making sure I have missed nothing; that my Lord Swallow’s intention to disembark from our Boat as a permanent choice is set and firm. I can feel his resolve; can sense his determination. Of course he is right——there is no other way. The tragic beauty envelops me; I will have to tell The Laird tomorrow. I will ask for a night away. The bags under my eyes will be evidence of the grief I am feeling. I knew it would be harsh, and it is; albeit in a glorious, thoughtful way.

  Friday 1st December 2006

  A.m. Mouse: Dear Adrian, thank you for your clear, kind message. I am sort of all right——I know what selfless humility feels like; it has its own riches; there is relief in that. I can go there easily——have been there often enough after all. Perhaps underpinned by this selfless act it will be deeper——maybe. I shall accept your invitation this weekend. The Laird would grant me a whole night even, to give him what he is asking. We could go away somewhere——but perhaps that wouldn’t be sensible——your choice. Let me know and I will ask. A ritual definitely, but not a burial——a planting certainly. This is too rich to bear no fruit; no future, whatever that might be. I am glad you are strong at the helm, My Friend. I am sitting at the prow of our Boat, gazing over a featureless ocean, trying to catch the waves with my toes. Tonight would work well. Let me know. Yours, Mouse.

  Adrian: Tonight. Where I know not——but a long time——a place we can talk freely——a place where nature is at hand. A motel? Mallory Falls? Your van would work——and a walk with a spade. Be prepared for all——bring writings, snackerels, thermos of tea. Aha! Maybe a lodge at Rangi Downs; I’ll call them. We can have a fire and sleep inside. Staff Play practice tonight——can we hold it? Teachers may frown——but I can hold it, and I am pretty sure you can as well.

  Yes, My Priestess Friend, we can do whatever we choose——so——if we choose to move to platonic friendship, then we both have the strength to do that. I do——I think. Martha suggests a clean break, but it is difficult; links with festival, play, class, land and workshops. I get that it comes down to us and our commitment; our strength of will and our honouring of children, family and colleagues. Easy and familiar as you say. I also get that it is not grey and featureless but offers more than that——below the surface. Angels don’t bless us so and suddenly remove the blessing. This is part of The Adventure, My Love——seek the depth and the treasure. Non-physical Love, clairvoyance, creative outpourings. Martha has sympathy; she met her current husband while still married and about to give birth to a child. She said she knew immediately he was her partner, but it wasn’t for three and a half years, and not her volition. So, she knows, she offers——

  I’ll bring the bedding so The Laird doesn’t get the wrong idea——or is this being secretive? I don’t want you to have to hide anything from him. Maybe this is a test——could you tell him that we will sleep together——snuggle——maybe make love if it feels appropriate? And this is a big question that I don’t know the answer to right now. But could you tell him this? Are we holding the children and service we are about to do for others above our own needs, even now? Right now; selfless service even in our thinking? No hidden agenda——clear, open invitations——no secrets? This is the new model. This is the clear light of Spirit shining out from us freely——because of our sacrifice. For God so loved The World. Our turn——our sacrifice——to hold our pain and loss for the good of others. Yes——why? What rewards? None. Unconditional Love. Is this what is on offer?

  Held in the womb of the night; reborn with the kiss of the sun——two lovers emerge with hearts soothed——past ordered——present healed. The future open and clear. Sure of their steps——mature adults——tall and proud, carrying their task; their swords.

  Warriors. The Womb of the Warrior.

  There is no school for me this morning. My Danish charge is unwell for the second day running——Angels providing windows again? I think so. I start my day with a comforting bath. The deep sides of our old-fashioned bathtub give temporary holding. The Laird is waiting for me as I emerge in a bath towel bundle. We sit on the sofa together. Now is the time to tell him how things are; to ask for a night away. We have an honest, friendly conversation. Our relationship has always been good at this level. We don’t get heated, it is not in our nature as a couple; perhaps it would be better if we did. The lack of passion is useful at times——I suppose. “You know how much I value you and the children,” I begin, “and you know how much I value my friendship with Adrian? Well——some of the teachers have commented on our connection and Adrian has been spoken to. We are very ‘together’ and know we must close our relationship. I need a night away; tonight if possible, to honour what it has been. Can you give me that? We would go somewhere wild; walking in the Forest or climbing a mountain——something like that. We need more than an hour or two.” My husband generously agrees. The clock ticks slowly, allowing time for this important conversation. Breakfast and school run duties will call us away soon enough. The sun strikes the antique mirror on the wall above our heads and the morning holds its breath as we tread this unstable ground.

  We examine our own relationship. We talk about the need to discover a spiritual connection in order for our marriage to last. We need a new impetus now that the children are growing up. “I am happy for you to have a creative relationship with Adrian. I know you need it——and I know I can’t give it to you. It’s just the private exclusivity between a husband and wife that I am unhappy about you sharing.” I look at my fine husband, knowing he speaks sense. Why
do my heart and soul disagree with my head?

  I mention The Play and The School Management Team, but only lightly. The Laird is uncomfortable that the staff knows we have marriage problems; that my relationship with one of the teachers has been revealed. I try to reassure him. We speak of the children’s interpretation of my close friendship with another man. They don’t appear to be upset. “Would you ever consider leaving me in Adrian’s care while you follow your vocational work?” I ask. “We could really do with some help when you are away.” “I’ll consider it,” he replies.

  I shed a few tears and my husband holds me close. He talks about the choices we make in life; how we often have to hold ourselves in check. “I find it difficult to be in love with you when you are constantly short-tempered and annoyed with me,” I admit. He must know there are reasons why I have turned to another man. “We should wait six months; see how you feel then,” he replies. “Love overlooks realities——rose tinted spectacles and all that. Let’s try and gain some perspective. If you still feel the same way in six months——well——we’ll have to think again. The temptation to resume that level of intimacy will be very strong; you know that, don’t you?”

  Yes——I nod my head in agreement, not daring to admit this is the last thing Adrian and I would have chosen if it hadn’t been forced upon us. We agree to keep quiet about recent events; our English friends and family needn’t know. “I understand the sacrifice you are making,” he continues. “I recognize Adrian’s strengths.” I always agree with my husband’s measured words. He knows me well——on a certain level——but he is a stranger to my private sanctuary.

  “I would like you and Adrian to talk soon,” I add. “We were looking forward to spending Christmas together, and now that isn’t to be. I am not looking forward to three lonely weeks while you have all the fun in England. I am really sorry to have hurt you. This is something I need——need at my deepest level. My Darling, you are my faithful ‘Sam Wise Gangee’. I am a ‘Frodo’ character; a ‘Ring Bearer,’ and the time may come when I have to leave with the ‘Elves.’ I honestly did not expect to find my ‘Elf Prince’ on this side of the world. In my wildest imaginings, I did not expect to find him here.”